My boyfriend broke up with me and all I have is work

Yesterday morning my boyfriend broke up with me through an email. It was a nice email, considering its purpose. He lives on the other side of the country, so when I tell people we broke up, the look in their eyes saws that it was inevitable. We met at a weird time. I'm sad.

I am so grateful for my co-workers. They listen to me while I dissect every detail and give support and insight into relationships, men, and life. They cover me if I have to run off and cry. They even bought me icecream and flowers.

We are a family and I love them. Even when they make messes or misinform customers or don't wash their breakroom dishes.

Blue Tuesday

I switched days this week with a co-worker, so I get a reprieve from Freak Out Wednesday.

I am back from vacation and so sad. I always hate coming back from trips and my sadness is compounded by the fact that I have to delay my plans to move closer to my boyfriend because I do not have enough money. There I was, back at work, pacing, dismayed by my delay without an end date and nearly imploding from the boredom and tedium. When I acknowledged that I must go to work and excel in order to make the money, I almost lost all semblance of sanity.

Since going out of my gourd and fleeing the store is not a viable option, I gave into an activity which may not be healthy, but sustains me in times of work panic: play shopping! I fondle merchandise which has never previously seemed attractive. A bamboo cutting board, elongated for the serving and slicing of fish? With a groove on the edge to catch the juices? I sort of need it! Especially with all the parties I host. I really don't have enough serving pieces. Ok, maybe I don't host parties, but I want to start, and maybe this lovely cutting board will be just the thing to inspire me!

When I actually type out the thoughts that went through my mind, I want to throw up. That is not the sort of person I am, right? Delusional, materialistic, irrational? The desire to host parties is okay, but thinking that a cutting board with prompt me to do it is insane. That is the thought process a hoarder goes through, right before they are crushed by a mountain of stuff.

I tossed the cutting board back onto the shelf. I don't need to acquire items to get what I want, I need to sell them. Let the merciless commerce begin.

Customers say the darndest things: Part 2

My boyfriend lives far away. When I went to visit him, there was a beautiful Pashmina scarf draped over his chair. He bought it when he was in the Middle East before we met. I love to wear those long thin scarves because they are lovely and warm. He let me have the scarf. It is special to me because I can't be close to him everyday.

I decided to tell people, when they complimented me on the scarf, that my boyfriend bought it for me: the truth stretched a little bit, but easier to explain and sweeter to say.

The other day I was helping a pampered mommie as she told me about her multiple homes and her decorating needs for the guest house at their lakeside estate. She told me my scarf was beautiful and that she had one just like it! I said "oh thank you my boyfriend got it for me in Kabul." To which she replied "Caa? What? Well, I got mine in Napa Valley at a winery."

Well, I win.